I do not own vampire diaries; I just own this plot bunny.


Chapter Seven: Lost Love

"You look like hell, Qetsiyah." Silas's jab was meant as an insult, but it couldn't be further from the truth. Her magic had been taking its vengeance out on her for the last few hours. She was happy neither Henrik nor Bonnie noticed the change. Shaking those thoughts from her person, Tessa let her eyes fall on the man locked up in his cell. His head was slack, resting against the iron bars. His hair looked a bit dirty from the dust but still well managed and his eyes were teasing. He still looked the same; handsome and cocky. Two thousand years in slumber only made him more appealing and it irked her.

Irked? Spirits that made her sound like she wasn't hurt at his actions. She had loved him after all. Blindly and like a foolish child, she let him slither his way into her heart and her bed as well. Told him of her plans for immortality and though he was going to stand by her side through it all. It wasn't until her wedding day, when the sun had set, and the covens had come and gone in disappointment that she allowed all her emotions to fuel her. The darker ones had taken the reigns and sought out her fiancé and his mistress.

Separating them had been easy. But she hadn't expected them of taking the other vial together. Silas's first death at her hands had been quick. A flick of the wrist and his neck snapped. The sight of his body dropping to the ground like a rag doll had brought a giggle to her lips. But she had left him there and when she came across her younger sister, she had been angry. Amara laid unconscious, placed in a deep slumber. Bonnie has been terrified of the sight, thinking she had killed her and ran before Tessa could plead her case.

She can't remember anything else that lead up to her death. She just remembered her brother's figure looming over her and the first strike of the boulder that would later become her grave marker.

"Did I strike a nerve?" Silas asked when she said nothing to him. Her brown eyes met his with ferocity and he let out a chuckle. "There you are. I thought I was dealing with an illusion."

"An illusion would have been foolish enough to feel pity for you."

"You did once. Love as well."

"And I was stupid enough to think it was a requited love." She spat, her emotions getting the better of her.

Silas looked at her. "It was once."

"Spare me your lies, Silas."

Did he really think she was that stupid? Silas only loved Amara. Whatever feelings he would have had for her were stomped into the Earth the day his eye started to wonder. And once that started, her heart began to harden. It only held little love, for her kin. Bonnie, Davina, Henrik; even Freya held a small corner of her heart. Her descendants she mourned for, wished she could turn back the clock on their lives and protect them. But even with her immortality, she couldn't. Not without disrupting the balance. It angered her that her bloodline had dwindled into what it was.

"Lies?" He asked. She hated how he sounded. So hurt, like she didn't speak the truth.

"Yes Silas, lies."

"I didn't lie to you, Qetsiyah. Not at the beginning at least." He told her, looking at her with a warm she hadn't seen in centuries. Once upon a time, she would have melted at that look. She would have looked like Bonnie had whenever Henrik gazed at her like she was his very soul made form. But that was long ago when she had been young.

Two thousand years had passed between them and honestly, she was tired. She was tired of Silas's lies and his presence. But more importantly, she was tired of Amara. That woman had been haunting her for years. Her face was plastered on two different women, both of whom had become entangled in her sister's life.

Would there ever be an end to this nightmare? She moved deeper into the basement and sealed off the room. No one would be getting in or out. Not until she was done with him.

"Do you remember the first night we spent together?" Silas asked, his eyes far off. She rolled her own at him and summoned her grimoire. He continued, trying to break her focus. "You were so nervous the first time. I'd never lain with a woman so jittery."

"But you had lain with someone," she told him, flipping through the pages. He didn't need to say it was Amara. It was always her.

"Humor me, Qetsiyah." Pleaded the immortal.

"You'll be humored."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's not a happy one."

He paused and then tried again. "Do you love me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Stop sounding like a broken record." He was almost as bad a Henrik when it came to his pining for Bonnie. Her magic could feel her ward's even from within the basement. He was currently in the kitchen and she could only guess his sour mood had to do with the constant state of blue balls he was in.

"I'll stop asking when you answer."

"Once, now please shut up. I'm thinking of a good way to end you." Tessa said flippantly. He huffed at her and moved away from the bars. She welcomed the silence.

:::

Bonnie awoke feeling like every cell in her body was on fire, in a good way. Her dreams had consisted of memories of her time with Henrik again. Some were soft memories, like how she had taught him a light spell when he was twelve. She could remember how happy he had been.

A different dream had woken her up though. It wasn't a memory - it was a fantasy. What she had wished had happened in the kitchen. It played out like a steamy sex scene in a movie, all heated kisses and him lifting her onto the island. She blushed and removed herself from the three bodies pressed against her.

Davina was the only one who stirred when she had. But the younger witch showed no signs of moving until Bonnie scampered off to the shower. Once she heard the water running, the younger witch slipped out of bed and headed for her destination: the kitchen. With any luck, her papa would be downstairs getting ready to made breakfast. Her stomach grumbled with anticipation at the idea of Henrik making her pancakes.

The sight before her when she came into the kitchen wasn't what she wanted to see. But she couldn't help but thank and curse the Spirits for the image of Stefan Salvatore shirtless. She racked her eyes over his abs and the muscle of his arms. Those had not been there the last time she saw him. Not that he remembered of course. 1863 had been a rush of a year, and they had only stopped through for a moment. But those two days, she had been rather smitten with the younger Salvatore. Enough so that she had decided to make it memorable for one of them.

Stefan gave her a smile, "Good morning. Sleep well?"

"Sort of," she said moving a hand to the back of her neck. She had a crook in it, but it was nothing she could massage out. "Sleeping in a bed with three other bodies isn't as fun as they make it seem to be. I'm pretty sure Caroline smacked me in the face twice in her sleep."

Stefan stifled a laugh. "No that sounds about right. Elena would complain about it happening to her."

Davina hummed, heading to the cabinet to grab a mug. She frowned, noticing that the only one she could see was a shelf higher than her fingers could reach. It was too early for magic, so she decided to get it the old fashion way. She hitched herself up onto her tiptoes and when that didn't work, she tried to balance on one foot, the other one kicked back. She was pretty sure she looked like an unbalanced ballerina, but she strained to grasp it. Her fingertips had just brushed against a mug when a much larger hand grabbed the mug.

"Here you go." Stefan beamed down at her. Her eyes followed his forearm and watch as he placed the mug on the counter.

"Thank you."

He nodded and then cleared his throat. "I'll be back. I need to grab some blood bags for the others."

"Uh-huh, take your time." Davina murmured. As she watched him go, she thought about her aunt's warning. Maybe she'd give that saddle another ride after all.